


Circles of Two or Three

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: Coldwave Week 2016 [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coldwave Week 2016, Day Four - Wildcard, High School AU, M/M, Mentions/References to Child Abuse, Misunderstandings, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 06:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6273214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“High school will probably be better. I mean, some kids will still be jerks, but it's not so bad if you have at least one good friend. Someone who gets you.”―Robin Stevenson</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Numerous guys have approached Len in hopes of hooking up with Lisa. Why would Len think Mick Rory was any different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circles of Two or Three

**Author's Note:**

> day four of coldwave week!! i used the wildcard to do a high school au bc it's been too long since i wrote one of these.
> 
> in this fic, mick is a senior (and is 18yo) and len is a junior (and is 17yo). both boys ended up softer/less angry than they typically are and that was intentional. i wanted soft fluffiness for the most part, not to mention mick's life is pretty mellow.
> 
> as always, thanks to elrhiarhoden for being beta!
> 
> hope you guys like it!

No one messes with Leonard Snart. He’s quiet, and reserved, and actually rather scrawny compared to most of the ‘bullies’ in his high school. But no one messes with him or his sister, Lisa. It’s partially because his dad, Lewis Snart, is a cop, except that most people by now know Snart Senior isn’t exactly a true cop nor is he a great father. It's just the fact that Lisa and Len’s dad is a member of the CCPD that keeps a lot of people off their backs. The other reason is because Len is intimidating in his own right. What he lacks in physical force he makes up for in speed and cunning. Plenty of other kids have had their shot at taking him down only to end up on their asses and looking like a fool. It’s almost an art form for Len, making meatheads look dumb.

He’s understandably wary when Mick Rory—resident quarterback of the football team—starts getting friendly with him. Len has encountered this before. Some meatheads, usually the ones who just aren’t very bright and aren’t very mean, come to Len trying to find a way to hook up with Lisa. Len has put a fair share of those guys out of their delusions, and a plan is already coming to life in his brain when Mick asks to sit beside him at lunch. Len doesn’t share a table with Lisa, doesn’t even share a lunch hour with his sister, but he figures there’s nothing else Mick would be after.

Doesn’t help that Lisa has just recently joined the cheerleading squad. Len is sure Mick sees plenty of her at practice, and wants a more personal in than just getting free panty-shots during their routines. Len lets him think it’s working though. Len doesn’t turn him away or pick a fight with him right away. Mick isn’t as insistent or lewd as some of the other guys who have approached him. That doesn’t mean Len is going to let Mick anywhere near Lisa, but still. It counts for something.

 

 

Mick never really wanted to be a quarterback. He doesn’t mind football, really, but it’s not something he wanted to do. He does it because it makes his dad happy and is basically a guaranteed scholarship to college. Not to mention the status it grants him on the high school food chain isn’t too shabby either. He doesn’t have to fend off dickheads at every turn and doesn’t really have to talk at all. No one seems to care that he’s almost always quiet and doesn’t really like to be around anyone. He scores touchdowns and takes Central City High School to the championships every single year. That’s all that anyone really cares about.

Except for Leonard Snart. Len Snart doesn’t seem to care about school aside from protecting his sister and not failing every single class. Snart spends all his time in the library and Mick is only a little ashamed to say he sort of stalks the kid. They’re a year apart but Snart is a teacher’s assistant for Mick’s English class and Mick doesn’t take a lot of notes when Snart is parading around the room, holier-than-thou and adorable at the same time. Mick might be a little obsessed.

Mick first contemplates approaching Lisa. They see each other every day after school and have even had a few idle conversations in brief moments of inactivity when cheerleading and football practice overlap. She knows how badly Mick wants to talk to Len.  She hasn’t said she knows, but the curl of her lips and spark in her eyes is telling. Mick is pretty sure she’s been sending encouraging vibes his way without actually saying anything. It’s why he considers approaching her, befriending her then hopefully getting to befriend Len. Lisa is actually the one to tell him no, fuckhead, don’t do that because then Len will think all Mick wants is into Lisa’s pants and that’s like taking one minuscule step forward and one million steps back.

 

 

They sit together at lunch, in a corner of the cafeteria where no one else sits. They aren’t outcasts—or at least, Mick isn’t. He’s the quarterback so of course he’s not an outcast. It earns them some odd looks even after it’s been happening for weeks, but no one says anything and no one bothers Len much anymore.

Mick follows him to the school library every day, regardless of what other plans he might have had. Len likes to go before school, sometimes during lunch, most often after classes are over and while Lisa is at practice. Mick tags along whenever he can, which means any time he doesn’t have to go to practice, and they sit in silence together. Sometimes Mick will ask him a question about some homework, or Len’s classes, but that’s all.

Mick walks with him to his car sometimes. On days when practice will be running late or when Lisa already has plans to get a ride with a different friend, Len won’t hang around. He’ll just head home or the mall or the local park. On those days, Mick walks him to his car, seriously all the way to the driver’s side door, before heading to football practice.

Len wouldn’t say they’re friends, but it’s not unbearable either.

 

* * *

 

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Len looks over, scandalized. Mick is sitting beside him in the library, and that’s not anything new, but they hardly ever talk to one another so Len is a bit thrown. His lips curl in a sneer and he punches numbers into his calculator with a little more force than strictly necessary. “Nothing special.”

Mick’s grunt is somehow contemplative.

Len takes a moment to wonder when he started to know the guy well enough to understand his grunts and huffs and mumbles. “Why?” Len asks slowly. “Lisa is going out with friends Friday night, and Saturday night, too I think.” Len adds; he expects it to derail the conversation or shut Mick down.

Instead, Mick keeps talking. “Wanna hang out?”

The scandalized look that had momentarily left Len’s face returns full force. He and Mick have been spending time together at school the past couple months, but it could hardly be considered _hanging out_. Mick basically follows him all over the school—they aren’t _friends_. They hardly talk to each other unless Len really needs to rant or unless Mick is feeling particularly annoying. Len doesn’t actually mind the set up they have now but it’s not something _more_ than what it is.

Mick has stopped reading his book. He turns in the chair to face Len. “Well?”

Len shrugs on instinct, ones that tell him to play it cool. “I guess.” Wait, _no_ , that’s not what Len meant to say. They don’t hang out together outside of school. Len has pointedly made himself scarce anytime he’s caught a glimpse of Mick at the local grocery store or at the mall. They don’t hang out at each other’s houses or drive anywhere together or— _any_ of that! “We should probably do it at your place. My dad is an asshole.”

Mick nods. “Okay.”

Len’s scandalized expression shrinks to a more private horror; his gaze drops and instead of staring in terror at Mick, his lunch tray gets the brunt of the stare. It’s like Len’s mouth is disconnected from his brain and running all on its own. “This Friday?” Len wants to bite his tongue hard enough to bleed just to stop this nonsense.

Mick grins at him. “Sure. You can spend the night if you want to.”

A snotty retort about sleepovers being for kids dies on Len’s tongue. _Now_ he decides to stop talking, of course. “Text me the address?” Len resigns himself to having lost control of his brain-to-mouth filter and figures there’s no turning back now.

Mick just nods again, already pulling out his phone and tapping away.

)

Three days later, Len is standing on the front porch of the Rory home, overnight bag slung over his shoulder and knees shaking. Why are his knees shaking? Well, he couldn’t tell you, but it’s definitely starting to get on his nerves. He reaches out to knock but the door opens before his knuckles make contact with the smooth ivory white wood. Mick stands inside the house. “Hey, you showed.”

Len scowls. “Were you expecting otherwise?”

A shrug is his answer.

Len trudges after Mick, up the stairs and to the bedroom where there’s already an impressive collection of junk food, DVDs, and video games accumulated. Len drops his bag by the foot of the bed then rounds to face Mick. For a second, he contemplates calling Mick out on this whole scheme—because most of Len’s brain is still convinced this is all an elaborate plot to get a date with Lisa. But when his eyes land on Mick, he realizes what he’s really looking at:

Mick looks sleep rumpled, as though he came home from school and went straight to sleep. He’s wearing the same jeans and t-shirt Len had seen him in this morning, but it’s all wrinkled and just slightly tugged in awry directions like Mick was tossing and turning. Len’s eyes crawl along Mick’s form and he can’t help but notice the way the jeans sag around his hips from lack of a belt.

Mick coughs and when Len’s gaze finally reaches his face again, the older boy is grinning. Len scowls and flips him the bird.

Mick is unaffected, though, and gestures to the pile of blankets and food and entertainment. “Good enough for you?”

“Do you have anything to drink?” Len asks, just to be petulant.

Mick doesn’t answer and instead points Len to the mini-fridge in the corner. “Help yourself.”

“You have a mini-fridge?” Len can’t help himself, it’s pretty cool and nothing his dad would ever let him or Lisa have in their rooms.

Mick shrugs. “Yeah, bought it last Christmas as a gift to myself.” He gestures again, encouraging Len to go toward it and grab a drink. Mick drops to the pillow he had been sitting on before Len showed up, and waits. Eventually, Len wanders over with two sodas in hand. He passes one to Mick without a word. “Thanks.” Mick mentions as he pops the tab of the soda.

Len’s scowl just deepens, and Mick decides it’s more adorable than threatening.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“I’m good with whatever.”

Mick doesn’t press and instead picks up one of his favorites scattered around them: _I Love You, Man_. He leans over and slips it into the DVD player before relaxing again.

The opening trailers and credits start to roll before Len speaks up again. “No practice today?”

Mick shakes his head. “Didn’t feel like it.” He doesn’t mention that if he had gone, they probably would have had to postpone this get-together; football practice takes too much energy out of him to be followed by a sleepover.

They lapse into silence as the movie starts, and the more minutes pass the more Len relaxes as well. Mick tries not to let his smile be too obvious.

)

As the number of movies they watch increases, the more Len opens up. He kind of hates it, and also kind of _doesn’t_.

They’re on movie number four— _Accepted_ —when things take a turn.

“Hey.” Mick’s knee tilts and knocks against Len’s. They’re pressed close together, not entirely touching but close enough that stray movements have their arms and sides brushing.

“Yeah?” Len retorts with only a little apprehension. _This is it_ , he tells himself, _here’s where Mick asks you how to win Lisa over_. He’s startled by how much the thought hurts.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Mick isn’t look at Len and it’s deliberate. His cheeks are flushed and his hands are shaking in his lap and he’s resolutely focused on the TV screen, as though watching Jonah Hill scream is the most fascinating thing on Earth.

“Huh?” Len can’t help it, his previous train of thought derails because _what?_ “What are you talking about?”

Mick huffs out a laugh. “Are you seeing anyone? Like, are you single?” Mick’s eyes dart to look at Len, but fast turn back.

Len tilts his head. “Uh, no.” He answers. “I mean—no, I’m not seeing anyone. Yes, I am single.” He can’t pinpoint when he started blushing, but it irks him and the embarrassment just feeds more heat to the blush. “Why?”

Mick flinches at the word.

Len leans closer with interest. “Why aren’t you asking about Lisa?”

_That_ gets Mick to look at him. “What.” There’s no inflection to his voice, it’s flat and confused and sharp.

“Why aren’t you asking me about Lisa?” Len doesn’t let himself get deterred. He knows what this is all about and he’s known from the start. Might as well address it now. “Why aren’t you asking me her favorite color or movie or whatever.” Len glares. A beat of silence passes.

Mick starts to laugh and Len only grows more irritated. Mick laughs so hard he doubles forward and practically burrows into the blankets. Mick laughs so hard he starts to gasp for air and Len can clearly see the glint of tears in his eyes. Len leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed. Eventually, the laughter dies down into errant chuckles. Mick catches his breath. “Why would I be asking you about Lisa? I see her all the time.”

“Well, you want to date her don’t you?” Saying it aloud feels silly. Particularly because he let it get this far. He didn’t threaten Mick right off the back and didn’t set him straight early enough. It feels ridiculous to be saying this; now that the words are out in the open, Len can hear how stupid it sounds. Suddenly he feels impossibly small compared to Mick, even if they’re only a year apart.

“I really, really don’t.” Mick says seriously. “I mean,” he looks stricken for a moment, “she’s great, and gorgeous, and fuckin’ funny. But I’m not—not into her like that.”

Len blinks. His eyes feel owlishly wide.

Mick continues as though he thinks Len doesn’t understand. “Lisa is an awesome friend. But I’m just not into her that way.” Mick shrugs.

“Are you gay?” Len asks without really thinking about it.

Mick startles. “Not gay, no. Just. Whatever.” He waves his hand as though to encompass all forms of attraction. “If I like it, I like it.” He settles.

Len blinks slowly now, feels a little less crazed and surprised. “So, you didn’t befriend me just to hook-up with my sister?”

Mick laughs again, but thankfully it’s not a long drawn out fit like before. “Oh fuck no, that’d just be weird.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you? I’ve lost track of how many guys think that’s the way to get with her—befriend her weirdo brother.”

“Well,” Mick declares, “I just wanted to befriend the weirdo brother, no nefarious intentions regarding Lisa or otherwise.”

Len smiles for the first time that night. The blush is still staining his cheeks, but he’s comforted by the mirroring flush on Mick’s face. They’re still sitting a little bit too close, but it no longer has Len’s skin crawling uncomfortably. In fact, he feels warm, and sleepy, and at ease. Maybe it’s the knowledge that Mick isn’t plotting to get with Lisa, or maybe it’s just _Mick_ , but Len feels light and happy.

)

They fall asleep in the piles of blankets and pillows sometime around two in the morning. After they could no longer agree on a movie, they settled for popping FRIENDS into the player and letting it fill the silence as they dozed off. When Len wakes up, the menu screen is playing on repeat; it fast starts to grate on his nerves but when he tries to reach other and turn the TV off, he realizes he’s kind of trapped.

Mick’s arms are secured around his waist and Mick is still firmly asleep. Len knows with the right amount of maneuvering he could probably squeeze free, but it’s unlikely Mick would sleep through that. Len stares up at the screen and sighs, instead reaching for the remote which is considerably closer. He clicks _play_ again and the disc starts over. Len settles back into Mick’s grasp without thinking, but stiffens again when Mick’s hot breathe fans over his neck.

Len can’t find a clock but given that there’s sunlight streaming into the room, he figures it’s midmorning. He wants to fall back asleep, sleep in and get his fill, but he’s hyperaware now. He can feel Mick’s breathing, the rise and fall of Mick’s chest; he skims his fingertips over the hair on Mick’s arms and tries not to feel creepy. It’s pretty creepy, though. Or at least a few steps beyond plain old weird.

Mick starts to stir after Len has been awake for two hours or so. Mick grumbles and grunts as he wakes; he presses his forehead into Len’s neck, inhales deeply, then freezes.

Len has spent the last two hours thinking about what to say when Mick finally woke up. His ideas had ranged from daring quip about morning wood to something softer about cuddling, to something that didn’t reference their predicament at all. He decides for the latter. “You never did tell me why you wanted to know if I was single.”

If possible, the tension in Mick’s body thickens. He was frozen awkwardly before but now he feels as rigid as a plank, paralyzed to his core. “Well.” Mick tries to buy time and the only saving grace is that Len is facing away, can’t pierce him with those icy blue eyes. “I had intended to ask you out on a real date, y’know, dinner and a movie. But then you started in with that Lisa stuff and I sort of. Didn’t.”

Len nods slowly, sagely, as though considering the words deeply and thoroughly before responding. “Are you still planning to ask?”

Mick’s grip, still locked around Len’s waist, tightens involuntarily. “Depends.” Mick watches the way Len’s head tilts—he’s rolling his eyes, Mick knows.

“Depends on _what_ , Mick?”

“What your answer would be. Hypothetically speaking.”

Len snorts. “Hypothetically?” Len’s hands curl around Mick’s arms but don’t push them away. His thumb traces a particular thick line of muscle. “Hypothetically, I’d say it’d probably be confusing and troublesome and we could never tell my dad which would make it nearly impossible to do anyway.”

Mick doesn’t deflate or back down. “Why can’t we tell your dad?”

“Because he’d probably beat my ass or disown me.” Len hums. “Probably both,” he decides.

The eerie calmness to Len’s tone is disconcerting. When Mick’s grip tightens, it’s purposeful. “You can stay here. You and Lisa both.”

Len scoffs. “That’s absurd.”

“Why?” Mick growls. “Your dad is an asshole, you said it yourself. You and Lisa could stay here. You can move out, he can’t actually stop you.” Mick loosens his grip just enough to roll Len toward him, so they’re face to face and chest to chest. “Would he even be sober enough to notice?” Mick asks, voice falling hushed but still sharp.

Len shrugs. “I’m not really eager to find out.”

Mick can’t decide whether to glare—not that he’s angry at Len, rather at Lewis—or frown. This isn’t really how he pictured this going. “I’d protect you. You and Lisa both.”

Len looks down. To distract himself, he fiddles with the worn collar of Mick’s t-shirt. He stares intently at the distressed fabric. “That’s ridiculous.”

“So?” Mick counters without missing a beat.

Len falls silent again, but instead of his expression being tight with unease, it’s more open. A multitude of expressions flicker across his face until he settles on unhappily contemplative. A flush rises to Len’s cheeks again and Mick is suddenly dying to know what he’s thinking.

“Len?”

Something in the air changes, lightens, softens. The tension hanging over them dissipates for the time being, though Mick gets the feeling the conversation about Lewis isn’t over for good.

“Are you a good kisser?” Len doesn’t stammer but it’s a near thing. His face is red enough that any attempt at playing things cool is definitely out of the question. He’s also still not looking at Mick directly, which doesn’t help his case.

Mick wants to laugh but bites it back. “Depends.” He’s had a feeling Len never really dated anyone, and the suddenly shy side blooming is evidence to that.

This time when Len rolls his eyes, Mick can clearly see it. “Depends on what?” He asks, again.

“Your definition of good.” Mick teases. His arms are still wrapped around Len so he tugs him just a little closer. “You want to find out?” Mick asks. His tone is rough as it usually is but not assuming. He waits.

Len still isn’t looking Mick in the eyes when he nods. “Sure.”

Mick leans in slowly despite the eagerness itching at his skin. He leans in slow enough to give Len an out, to watch for fear or regret in Len’s expression. Len doesn’t flinch away or back down, though. He raises his gaze defiantly, and all that does is set a fond grin in place on Mick’s lips. He’s still grinning that way when he and Len finally kiss. It’s dry and close-mouthed and tastes faintly of flat soda and morning breath. It’s kind of really gross, but Mick loves it.

Len makes a soft noise into the kiss and his hands grope desperately at the fabric of Mick’s shirt. They kiss like that, _gently_ , until their lungs are burning. Mick pulls back first and takes pride in how Len leans in, chasing his lips with a dazed expression. Mick waits until Len’s brain catches up and laughs when Len’s eyes are no longer glazed. Len looks horrified with himself, but underneath that is a layer of contentedness. Mick chooses to focus on that aspect, instead.

“Well?” Mick asks.

Len purses his lips. “I’d give it a seven out of ten.”

Mick raises an eyebrow.

“I think I need a repeat performance to get a more accurate score.” Len retorts, slower than his usual quips and a bit more unsure, but nonetheless said with a smirk.

Mick grins.


End file.
